


an emptiness, waiting

by kitahart



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Dissociation, Gen, Hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9054742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitahart/pseuds/kitahart
Summary: magnus dissociates. taako is more useful than one would think.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quakerlol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quakerlol/gifts).



> uh
> 
> laura mentioned a headcanon that magnus disassociates + uses That Good Pressure Stim to help and i wanted to write it so here's. this ridiculously self-indulgent thing.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

so you're having a bad day. 

it didn't start out like this, at least: you woke up. you brushed your teeth. you went to fantasy costco and bought three boxes of shitty mac’n’cheese because – listen, you are a self-sufficient man who can _cook for himself_ and it doesn't matter if a good 80% of your meals are microwaved or not, it’s _fine._

but somewhere between haggling with garfield the deals warlock and thinking about washing the dishes that have been piling up in your sink in over a week, the part of your brain that has any capacity to complete either of the increasingly insurmountable task in front of you just….. shuts off.

so you stand there for a while, mind filled with cotton and static, before you decide to abandon all hopes of making yourself a meal and make the decision to zone out in front of Fantasy Tv instead.

taako is already in the living room, stretched out across the couch with the remote in his hand.

he's watching a cooking show.

that's fine. you squeeze yourself onto the square of cushion not occupied by his feet (he squawks and kicks you, because you're not _that_ small and you definitely sat on him by accident a little there). you don't know what the chef on tv is saying, but the rhythm of his voice and his knife as he chops up vegetables is soothing. inexplicably, you find yourself thinking of julia: her weight at your side, her hand resting on your hip –

you kind of lose time for a while there.

someone’s calling your name faintly and you ignore it and then taako’s all in your face, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. you flinch.

“hey magno, you good?” he says. “need me to change the channel or anything?”

you shrug.

at least taako’s frown is evident in his voice, because you're not doing too great at the focusing department right now. “do you want to talk about it, homie?”

you shrug.

he shifts so he’s more beside you now. “do you… want a hug?”

“yes,” you hear yourself saying, and you immediately kick yourself for it, thinking about the way taako is like – like a cat you had once, always ducking around your hand when you try to touch him, coming to you for physical affection on _his_ terms. there's no way –

but taako just says “alright, come here,” and before you can even begin to process that, he’s got his arms wrapped around you.

it’s a little awkward, because for all that taako is made up of soft curves, hugging him feels sharp, somehow, like he’s made of too many limbs. more accurately, you guess that it’s less of an active _hug_ and more that he’s holding you, because you’re _not crying,_ you’re just covering your face, okay?

anyways: taako is… okay at this hug thing. he doesn't ever sit still and somehow his elbow is poking into your neck, oddly angular (and honestly, _how did he manage that)_ , but the weight of him is warm and real and grounding against your side.

just as suddenly as it appeared, the pressure at your side vanishes. you must make some sort of noise, because taako says, “i’ll be right back, i just – need to get something, i’ll be back in a minute.” 

you don’t expect him to come back, but he does, resuming his position beside you and dragging something heavy over you both. 

“weighted blanket,” he explains, and although you’re lying so that your face is buried half in the couch cushion, half in taako’s shoulder, you can imagine the half-smile he has, the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth when he’s proud of himself. “i think we could all use one at this point.”

“guess so,” you say, swatting taako’s hand away from where he’s messing with your sideburns. it comes to rest in your hair and you honestly don’t mind the soft motions he’s making right now, ever-so-slightly carding his hand through your hair. 

you steal a little more of the blanket from taako, and for once he’s happy to relinquish his share with only a _few_ mock-offended noises, doubling up the fabric on you so there’s twice the pressure. you keep flipping through the channels until you find something that the both of you can focus on, which turns out to be a three-hour infomercial for fantasy blenders. 

in between mocking what must be the shittiest blender on the moon (“did you see those carrots go flying everywhere, _holy shit magnus_ this is why you use a lid”) and ordering takeout for the two of you, you take a moment to reassess yourself. 

you’re doing fine. 

yeah, you're actually doing pretty good. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [punkwixes](http://punkwixes.tumblr.com) on tumblr


End file.
